Home Sweet Home

I have written more about Veteran Lines than any other subject in the world. From the moment I set eyes on it, way back in 1985, I knew I had found my eternal resting place and even now I can say, with supreme confidence, that there has never been, for me, a more all-encompassing human habitation than Veteran Lines. I say this even though I have limited experience of the world, because, at a certain time in history, Veteran Lines was almost an island, isolated yet within stone-throwing distance from what we now imagine are the better things in life. I’m happy because I discovered the place before the aura vanished, before fine living gave way to ostentation, and before the ways of the world had changed from tolerance and respect and camaraderie to high-walled isolation and the very opposite of “love thy neighbor”. The English novelist, Jane Austen, has provided us with pictures of genteel, serene, out-of-this-world, yet very knowledgeable living; there are countless stories of the Wild West and life at home-on-the-range; in fact, most cultures well know the concept of “simple living and high thinking”, while, even over here, we still say, brazenly, that the real India is to be found in her villages. Well, at least we have memories.

Let me give you, dear Readers, the background to the formation of Veteran Lines. It is a part of the Cantonment comprising St Thomas Mount and Pallavaram. It probably got its name from the old EAV Company (expanding to European Artillery Veterans) of “Colonial” times, for the East India Company had these troops stationed in Masulipatnam and Pallavaram in the past. As a cantonment, Pallavaram now cuts a sorry figure, but as I mentioned earlier, we simply cannot erase the past.

To cater to the religious beliefs of the EAV soldiers was actually a difficult task. There was no Anglican church in the Pallavaram area, so the men (and their families) had to trudge to the Garrison Church in St Thomas Mount. Fortunately, four very enterprising Anglo-Indian ladies took it as a challenge to set up a church nearer home—Veteran Lines, I mean. Their names are immortalized on the front wall of the church, which was consecrated by Bishop Harry Waller (students of Vestry in Trichy will remember the “House” with yellow colors) in 1935. The church is dedicated to St Stephen, the first martyr, and not some 10th century Magyar king who was canonized by the Church of Rome. My Church has even given its name to the road on which it stands and it is almost the gateway to the quaintest colony in the world—Veteran Lines.

Starting at about a kilometer from the main road (now called GST road), St Stephen’s Church Road runs to the Church first, passed the Officers Lines, the parade ground and the barracks. Just after the Church is an intersection which is now called First Cross Street. Before turning right, into Veteran Lines proper, an unmistakable bus shelter can be seen. Our own public transport, running on route 52G, has long been discontinued, but the shelter continues to plot its own history. About 50 meters from the First Cross and parallel to it is the Second Cross Street, and that is all that Veteran Lines can boast of. Not much, I almost hear you say, but in this small enclave a way of life was lived that is the stuff of dreams, of fantasies, and of actuality giving way to nightmarish progress.

If you counted them, you would find that, between the 2 streets there are 7 lanes, all running parallel to the next. However, 2 lanes are not to be found in any official record—one just behind St Stephen’s Church Road and the last-but-one before the army boundary wall. What happened to those 2 lanes? In more modest times, those 2 were designated “service lanes”, from which the night soil of individual houses was collected and gotten rid of. I will not say more on the subject, but though a century has passed, the perimeters of Veteran Lines are still favorite haunts for open defecation, garbage disposal and clandestine, as well as cheap, rendezvous.

What they didn’t tell you is that every silver lining has a cloud. But enough of that; let’s look at the positives. Some of you may remember walking home from the bus-stand, or, more likely, from the railway station. All of you would have noticed the fully-grown banyan trees on both sides of the road. All gone now, dear Reader, except for the one almost on the lane where I reside, a sprawling monster, the home of screeching birds, the tree that has even acquired the wall next to it. Now there are rain-trees (also called “thoongu-moonji) dotting the landscape, including 4 on my lane which I fondly call “Roman Lines? Why? Let me explain:

More than 35 years ago, a service-oriented Board Councilor initiated a tree planting drive in the area. 5 were planted in my lane and 4 are still thriving. At the junction of Second Cross and Fourth Lane is Anthony’s tree, planted by Uncle Tony D’Nazareth. Just opposite is Caesar’s tree, planted by Caesar Fernandez. A few meters away is Octavius’s tree, planted by good old Poppy Bentley. These were the original “Romans”, but I landed up just in tine to have my own—Lepidus’s tree. I have done my part, actually—I developed and still maintain mini-gardens around 3 of the trees. In time, I, too, have become a Veteran—I hope you will agree.

God bless and keep Veteran Lines and God bless this “Anglo” home of old.